


Harry Potter and the Return of Sauron

by The_Dark_Lord_of_Dragon_Kind



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Death Eaters, Hogwarts, Mordor, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-05-03 04:40:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14561073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Dark_Lord_of_Dragon_Kind/pseuds/The_Dark_Lord_of_Dragon_Kind
Summary: In the summer before the Triwizard Tournament, a goblin found a large stone made out of volcanic glass. In a quirk of fate, the stone contained the gold that made up the One Ring in the center. The goblin attempted to make something with the gold like his dwarven ancestors once did, but the gold formed into a gold ring the moment he put it into the fire.With the one ring remade (and quickly recovered), Mordor gained it's Lord back and by the summer after the Triwizard Tournament, the spies of Mordor were already moving.Lord Voldemort's Manor has strong wards, but they cannot stop someone who just wants to give him a little trinket… a ring.The blood wards of the Dursley home are strong, but they are made to stop Lord Voldemort's supporters or servants, not the servants of Mordor.And of course, Dumbledore has never had the best luck with Defense Professors… and he needs a new one again.





	1. Voldemort's Ring

Malfoy Manor

Unknown Location

England

 

Lord Voldemort sat alone in his study, reading the Daily Prophet. He may not have believed most of what was written there, but so many did that it was a good way to sense the public opinion. A wolf's howl broke the moonlit silence outside the window. Lord Voldemort flipped a page. Nagini stirred uneasily where she lay by the fire.

Lord Voldemort blinked slowly as Nagini shifted again. He felt… tired. Not in a bad way, though.

He felt comfy, warm and safe… safe? When had he ever felt safe? Lord Voldemort only ever felt… not threatened.

Lord Voldemort raised his eyes from his newspaper and met the amused gaze of a young man who was leaning against his wall. The young man had pointed ears and and brilliant violet eyes. His hair was long and black with braids that hung amongst his unbound hair and he wore long, blood-red robes under a black cloak. His face showed no emotion, only a calm serenity. But despite his unnerving appearance, he gave off an aura of kindness and safety.

“You are Lord Voldemort?” the young man asked softly, his voice ethereal in it's beauty and hidden power, like an iron fist gloved with silk and satin.

“I am,” Lord Voldemort growled. “And who are you?”

“Some call me Annatar,” the stranger answered, his voice still kind and soothing.

“And others?” Lord Voldemort questioned.

“They call me the Nameless One, the Lidless Eye, the Lord of Wolves, the Lieutenant...” the stranger trailed off thoughtfully. “My favorite name is Annatar, though, for it is the one I give to myself and give to others to call me.”

“And why have you come here?” Voldemort demanded.

“Oh, just a little thing,” Annatar answered airily. “I find myself impressed that you were able to resurrect yourself. Not many are those who have succeed and fewer are those who kept their sanity. I merely wanted to give you a gift to express my pleasure that you were able to succeed in this holy endeavor.”

“And what would this _gift_ be?” Voldemort wondered aloud.

For the first time, Annatar showed a flash of emotion, but Voldemort did not see what it was; did not see the small hint of triumph and cruel delight.

“Just a little trinket, though one of no little worth,” Annatar explained. “It's a lovely ring. An old friend of mine, Celebrimbor, made it. He was a great smith.”

Annatar walked over to Voldemort's desk and placed a box on it. Inside was a beautiful ring.

Without thinking, Voldemort picked up the ring and turned it around in his hand. Something within him was alarmed that he would take a possibly magical artifact from a stranger who had managed to breach the wards and get to him without him noticing until he was in the room, but the rest of him was certain that Annatar and his gift were good news.

Annatar smiled as Lord Voldemort slipped the ring onto his finger. Lord Voldemort looked back to Annatar and opened his mouth to say something, but Annatar faded into the shadows.

Voldemort should have taken the ring off. He should have examined it. But he didn't. It felt so right on his hand. He felt so powerful.

But of course it felt powerful.

Rings of Power always felt powerful.


	2. Harry Potter Meets A Noldorian Elf

Number 4

Privet Drive

Little Winging

 

A heavily scarred woman lounged on the roof of the Dursley house. Her eyes were different colors; the right was a vibrant purple and the other was an equally colorful green. Both glowed as if lit from within by a sliver-gold light, bright even in the early morning light. Her hair was black, yet, as the light caught it, there were threads of copper. Her ears were pointed and she seemed to, even still as a statue, possess an unnerving grace. In fact, after looking at the woman for a few moments, one might realize that it would be more accurate to call her “she-elf”.

The woman wore ancient black armor covered by a black cloak. On one hip a sheathed sword hung. Slung across her back was a gun. Two handguns were strapped to her thighs and there were knives in her sleeves and heavy boots.

The elf stayed still, not moving a muscle as the sun began to rise.

The sun was not yet half-way above the horizon when a young teenage boy was thrown out into the garden. Immediately, the elf raised the hood of her cloak to hide her face and her pointed ears.

She also immediately recognized that the young teen was none other than the strangely famous Harry Potter who she had been assigned to watch. Why she was assigned to watch a mere child, the elf did not know, but orders were orders and disobeying orders for no good reason would mean she had betrayed her city for nothing. What was surprising was that, despite the elf's assumption that her target would be protected and possibly pampered as an important figure in the wizarding community, there were several bruises on his face, one arm was being held close to his body as if it hurt, he was limping and the boy was wearing horrifyingly ugly and mis-fitting rags.

“Get moving, Freak!” the woman who had pushed the boy snarled. “I expect the entire garden weeded by mid-morning so you can cook lunch for Dudley and his friends!” the woman slammed the door. The boy sighed in a very resigned manner and turned to get to work.

“Yeah,” he muttered to himself, “I know. If I don't get this done in time, I won't even get food scraps from the table.”

For a brief moment after the door slammed, the elf's face showed utter shock. Then her face cleared and her lips curved up slightly, her eyes alight with a calculating intelligence that was, for the first time in ages, both kind and cruel.

“I do believe I can help you and you can help us, Harry Potter,” the elf whispered in a long dead elven dialect, her quiet voice lost to the gentle breeze before it could even reach her own ears.

With all the grace that might be expected in an elf and a certain efficiency in her stride that brought to mind a warrior, the elf stood and then jumped down behind the boy, landing in a crouch. Even crouching, the elf was obviously much taller than the boy.

The boy immediately spun around and stumbled backwards as the elf rose to her full height, nearly twice that of the boy; and as he stumbled, he fell to the ground.  
“Peace, young one,” the elf soothed the child, her voice melodic and calming. “I mean no harm. I would not hurt one as young as yourself.”

“Who… what are you?” the boy demanded, staring up at her.

“I am one of the Eldar,” the elf answered. “I am called Gothwen.”

“Why are you here?” the boy asked.

“I was resting on the rooftops,” Gothwen explained. “I have been traveling for a long time and now I am returning home. But as I rested, I happened to over hear your… conversation.”

“Aunt Petunia hates me because of what I can do,” the boy admitted.

“Aunt!” Gothwen exclaimed. “And here I was, wondering how such a cruel woman would be able to adopt a child! Does she starve you?”

“Yes. And for the littlest things, too,” the boy laughed bitterly. “All I can look forward to is school. Then I'll be gone from here for another three seasons but back again in the summer.”

“If you wish, you could stay with me during the summer,” Gothwen offered, with determination in her tone. She bent over slightly and extended a hand to the boy, the iron gauntlet and inhuman grace of the motion showing her physical strength and elven heritage.

The boy took the hand and Gothwen pulled him up, smiling.

“I with I could accept,” he sighed sadly, taking his hand back, “but I have to stay.”

“Says who?” Gothwen demanded, taken aback at her incomplete victory. “Your… aunt, you called her? She does not treat you as her flesh and blood and more like a prisoner of a very personal war in the middle ages.”

“No, Professor Dumbledore says so,” the boy explained. “There are blood wards here, to protect me against my enemies. While my family starves and beats me, my enemies would torture me to death.”

“Blood magic is powerful,” Gothwen admitted with a sigh. “Powerful and old. But in the thousands of years it has been hidden, no mortal, man or woman, has ever found the Tower without permission or being born in the surrounding lands. I would think you would be as safe, if not safer, in the Tower that is my home, than in this dangerous and possibly deadly prison. Who is this Dumbledore, though, to know about these blood wards and order you back here?”

“He's the headmaster of my school and a great wizard,” the boy snapped. “I hope to be as wise and powerful ans him one day.”

“Calm, little one,” Gothwen urged. “You are hungry and I meant no insult. But no one is perfect and I feel that he has made a grave mistake, leaving you here to fend for yourself. I urge you to consider my offer. Perhaps just try it? I will show you the way so you may flee if you wish or need to. And I can assure you that I would do my best to protect you if your enemies were to come to my doorstep. I feel strongly about child abuse as I myself was… not abused, but certainly not loved nor given any freedom like my brothers.”

The boy looked conflicted after Gothwen's speech. Suddenly he breathed out and stood tall, his mind made up.

“My trunk with my school things is in the cupboard under the stairs,” the boy told the elf. “I can't exactly get to it and I need it. If you can get it, I will come with you because everything I own is in there and I don't want to leave it behind, except for my owl, which is at school.”

Gothwen's eyes flashed a shade stronger in triumph and her lips curved up.

“I'll take care of it,” Gothwen promised. “You can stay with my steed while I secure it.”

“Your steed?” the boy asked.

“She's on the roof of the school building that's a few blocks from here,” Gothwen told him.

“OK,” the boy accepted Gothwen's strange words.

“Oh, I'm afraid I do not know your name,” Gothwen lied. “Might I know it? Or I should call you young one or little one?”

“My name's Harry Potter,” the boy said.

An amused smile overtook Gothwen's face briefly. So trusting. Names have power. Truly, it was a miracle that the child was still alive. He certainly needed to be taught.

“Well then, Harry,” Gothwen commanded, “why don't we go to my steed. She will protect you.”

Gothwen walked away, beckoning the boy to follow and the boy trailing behind her. Even in her Questioner outfit, she had convinced the child to follow her! Even in all the centuries that she had waited, Gothwen had not lost her touch for manipulation.

But no, it was not only that which had caused the boy to give up on his relatives so quickly. With true family, it would take even the most talented manipulators weeks to lure a child from their home. Gothwen glanced back at the child as she wondered exactly what abuse the boy had suffered at the hands of his false family in his prison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gothwen means Enemy Maiden.  
> Her title of the Questioner is mentioned in the books: an Orc named Grishnakh mentioned the Questioner on page 445 of the Two Towers.  
> Gothwen herself is an OC as the Questioner is only spoken about in a single sentence of a single threat.


	3. A New Defense Professor

Hogwarts Castle

Hogsmead

Unknown Location

 

Dumbledore glanced over an application for the position of Professor of the Defense Against The Dark Arts class. There was one who truly fit and deserved the spot, but one of their cousins were a supporter of Voldemort. No, he couldn't have that.

There was another one who would have fit, but there was a chunk of time that she had been… missing. It was later discovered that she had been imperioed by Voldemort's Death Eaters. While it was likely that she was totally light, Dumbledore could not, in good conscience, allow somebody who might be connected to Voldemort to take the job. He couldn't afford to. Not after Quirell.

The third was from a foreigner from a place called the Eastern Ridges. He claimed that his people had to fight off a lot of nasty dark creatures, so he knew their methods of attack. He also was very good at defense, being a celebrated international duelist. More importantly, he had come to England after Voldemort was defeated. It was very unlikely that he was connected to Voldemort.

With a smile, Dumbledore signed off on Maril'zar Grathzon as the Defense Against The Dark Arts. He was sure that Maril'zar would make a fabulous Defense Professor. How many had faced down a fully grown Dragon alone and escaped to tell the tale? How many grew up in cultures that regularly ran into giant spiders and packs of werewolves under the full moon? And if everything was fake, at least he didn't seem as annoying as Lockheart.

Little did he know that almost everything was true and that, though his mother was a normal human witch, Maril'zar's father was not even human.

Little did he know that Maril'zar grew up amongst his father's people.

In Eastern Udun.

Everyone makes mistakes but Dumbledore had just made a major error.

 

 

Not that Sauron _needed_ him to.

But it was always nice to have spies in important places.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's short.  
> The next chapter will be longer.


	4. What is Dark in This World?

The School

Little Whinging

England

 

Harry wasn't sure he should trust the woman who called herself Gothwen. She didn't seem human but he had never heard of the Eldar. Also, she was wearing armor, really spiky, iron, medieval-looking armor and four different weapons that he could see. But for all her strangeness, Gothwen seemed nice. Plus, Harry thought that if Voldemort sent someone to kidnap him, they would pretend to by an Auror or someone Harry knew and they would say they were sent by Dumbledore, not insult him, wonder who he was and then say Dumbledore had made a mistake. Plus, Harry was so tired of staying at the Dursley house. The Dursleys had gone back to treating Harry like a Malfoy house elf and after a few summers of being left alone due to the threat of first magic and then Sirius, it was even worse than when he had thought he deserved to be treated that way before he started Hogwarts.

And now Gothwen was offering an escape, no matter how strange it was...

But now she was turning and flashing him a smirk.

“Gorion,” Gothwen called. “Come down and meet my new friend.”

“ _New friend?_ ” a voice hissed. “ _Or food? Is it tasty?_ ” A massive serpentine head appeared above the rooftop, peering down at Harry, it's dark silver scales glinting slightly in the morning sun.

“ _I should hope not,_ ” Harry hissed back in parseltounge. “ _I don't believe I am tasty._ ”

“ _One can hope,_ ” the beast sighed. “ _Once Gothwen brought me a cow and called it a friend. I still got to eat it._ _It was delicious._ ”

“ _I like cow meat too,_ ” Harry agreed.

“You are a Speaker,” Gothwen interrupted in surprise. “A Speaker of the Snake-tongue.”

“Err… yes,” Harry admitted.

“I have parsel books at home, books in the snake-tongue,” Gothwen told him. “If you wish, you may read them.”

“Maybe…” Harry said uncertainly. “Isn't it… a dark skill?”

The creature decided to move at that moment, leaping down so that it's entire body towered over Harry even as it slunk around Harry and Gothwen on it's belly. Harry realized that the beast was a wyvern. It's fore-limbs were wings and it's hind legs were long and muscled. It's body was more similar to a snake than a dragon.

“What is truly dark in this world?” Gothwen asked after a few moments of thinking. “A sword may be wielded in service to evil and therefore, by spreading death and sorrow, would it not be an evil skill? Yet it can be used to protect, to defend those who cannot defend themselves. Similarly, you can use the snake-tongue to order a snake to not attack someone, to protect them, or you could send a snake to murder innocents. It is what you make of it. Just because it is powerful and dangerous does not mean it is evil.”

As Harry thought about Gothwen's words, the wyvern, Gorion, moved so that the saddle on its back was easily accessible. Now that Gorion was closer, Harry could see the harness that kept the saddle in place, black leather on dark silver scales.

Suddenly, Gothwen was boosting Harry into the saddle. Harry held on, alarmed, as Gothwen stepped back and smiled at them from under her hood.

“You two look very cute,” she laughed. “Harry, stay on Gorion. Gorion, stay on the school roof until I call you down. I'll get the trunk and I'll be back before you know it. Harry, there's rations in the saddlebags in front of you. Eat as much as you like.”

Gothwen swept away, disappearing in moments.

“ _Hold on,_ ” Gorion growled, beat her wings up and down and then, a moment later, they were on the roof.

Harry and Gorion waited patiently. Before long, Gothwen came dashing into the school grounds. Gorion jumped down and Gothwen fastened Harry's trunk to the wyvern's harness before swinging up behind Harry.

“Let us leave this place, Gorion,” Gothwen cried out, her musical voice urgent and commanding. “Get into the cloud cover, and let's go home. I saw someone who was watching us.”

Hissing angrily, Gorion flew swiftly to the south east, hiding in the clouds.

 

_But when Harry fell asleep, they flew farther and faster than before, slipping through the void that wizards use to apparate for seconds at a time._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to make things a little clearer, the wyvern is going into and out of the void that allows wizards and witches to apparate, therefore going many times faster than should be possible.


	5. The Order Learns of Harry's Disappearance

Hogwarts Castle

Hogsmead

England

 

Hogwarts Castle glittered in the summer sun. It seemed peaceful, lacking it's students, empty and nearly silent. Even the beasts of the Forbidden Forest were… perhaps not peaceful, but certainly less bloodthirsty than normal.

Inside Dumbledore's office, on the other hand, was anything but peaceful. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a number of cutting curses. A large number of Order members stood around the desk.

“Good, everyone's here,” Dumbledore said, as Molly and Aurthur Weaselly fell through the floo, with a hint of worry in his voice. “Ms. Figg, could you tell them what you told me?”

Ms. Figg shifted nervously.

“I was feeding my cats when Harry was sent out to weed the garden, in the morning,” she began. “His aunt shouted at him and then went back inside. Almost immediately someone very tall, dressed in a black cloak with a hood over their face jumped down behind him. They spoke and then the stranger left, leading Harry.”

“He left of his own free will?” Molly demanded. “Why?”

“Our spy did not hear their conversation,” Dumbledore snapped. “Please listen.”

“The stranger returned after a few minutes without Harry,” Ms. Figg continued. “He entered the Dursley house, but I saw no more until he exited, carrying Harry's school things.”

“I believe Harry was convinced to tell the stranger where his things were,” Dumbledore interrupted. “Go on, Ms. Figg.”

“Yes, er… The stranger went away in the same direction that he left,” Ms. Figg continued. “He took Harry's trunk. A little while later, what I think was a wyvern lifted into the sky and flew south-east, starting from the direction the stranger had gone.”

“A wyvern!” someone shrieked, their voice both surprised and worried.

People began shouting disbelievingly.

“She may be a Squib, but she knows her beasts!” Dumbledore shouted. People quieted down. “Thank you,” Dumbledore continued. “Now, we all know that wyverns are extremely social, feral beasts. A solitary wyvern would not be ridden across a city. Then again, the last wyvern sighting was centuries ago. But if the stranger used the dark arts, he might have been able to control it. As far as I know, no one has tried.”

“Was the stranger a Death Eater?” Remus asked.

“He didn't look like it,” Ms. Figg stated. “The hood covered his face, not a mask. Plus he was wearing armor and had three guns – muggle weapons, you know.”

“So then it's just a muggle do-gooder,” Molly blurted out, “who's found a wyvern and trained it from birth, maybe a Squib who was adopted into the muggle world or something. Why haven't we gotten Harry back?”

“I tracked Harry when Ms. Figg came to me,” Dumbledore started, his voice dark. “At first, they moved at a steady pace to the Southeast. At 2:34 pm, they seemed to start apparating small distances, getting longer and longer. At 2:52, exactly, they apparated behind wards. All I know is that these wards are so powerful that even my most powerful spells can't overwhelm them. I don't even know their general location.”

“Why did he go?” Remus moaned.

“I'm not sure that's the best question,” Ms. Figg stated. “If I were him, I would have run away ages ago. If the stranger promised him a nicer life, I doubt he would have passed it by, considering how badly those muggles treat him. Really, it wouldn't take much for him to have a better life. Like I've told Albus, a place with a warm meal three times a day would be better...”

“Albus!” Remus exploded. “You knew they were abusing him and you haven't done anything?”

“They do give him cold meals, but they don't really abuse him,” Dumbledore assured Remus. “They yell at him some, but he's fine. They love him and do show it.”

“OK,” Remus muttered suspiciously. “However, I will be asking Harry.”

“Children can over exaggerate,” Dumbledore warned. “But for you to talk with him, we must first find him. I will be using the owl, Hedwig, to find Harry, but I wanted everyone to be here so that we can follow it properly. I will use her to find at least the border of the wards.”

Dumbledore pulled Hedwig off the perch she had been sharing with Fawks and gave her a letter.

“Hey girl,” Dumbledore cooed, carrying Hedwig to the window. “I need you to carry this to Harry. Take you time, though. You don't need to go quickly.”

Hedwig squawked in an offended manor and dove out of the window.

“Now what?” Molly asked.

“Now,” Dumbledore chuckled, “we follow the bird.”


	6. The First Glimpse of Barad-dûr

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is what happens when I stay up until 11 two days in a row.  
> Enjoy...

The Western Ridges

Udun

Mordor

 

The air was frigid. It whistled in Harry's ears. Every few seconds, a deep thump echoed all around. Harry could smell the sent of fire and ashes. He was straddling something and there was someone behind him, who had wrapped an arm around him.

Harry drug his eyes open and saw a vast expanse of dark blue sky above him. On one edge of the horizon, a dark mountain range rose up almost uniformly, irregular spikes against light blue, yet without many obvious passes. On either side, Gorion's wings beat up and down, the thumps timed with the down strokes. Harry sat up and looked down.

Far below as a dark wilderness. Every few miles, a few twisted gray-green trees sprouted up out of a few small tufts of grayish grass. In some areas, overgrown pits of read stone studded the the plains. However, farther in front of him, Harry saw that there were small reddish black mountains rising up out of the ground in place of the pits. On a few, Harry saw what he thought were towns and villages. The small mountains themselves seemed to radiate from one direction. Looking beyond the small mountains, Harry saw a massive mountain that dwarfed the smaller mountains – foothills, he now realized. Above the summit of the mountain, smoke poured upwards, light from below by a lava orange glow. About half way up, nestled into the mountainside, there was a tower. It was spiky and made of pure black stone that stood out against the dark grayish red stone of the mountain. The tower had an aura of command, of misery, of utter darkness and cruel magic. Just glimpsing it, Harry knew that to go in there as a prisoner would break even the strongest willed individuals.

Gothwen, sitting Harry, noticed at that moment that he had woken.

“Welcome to Mordor, Harry,” Gothwen said proudly. “Do you see the Tower?”

“That dark one?” Harry asked, pointing ahead of him.

“Exactly,” Gothwen confirmed. “That is Barad-dûr, the most important fortress in all of Mordor. It is from there that Mordor's armies conquered almost the entire world all those centuries ago, all those hundreds of centuries ago. It is there where the Lidless Eye saw all that was. It is from there that Sauron rode out to claim the title of Deceiver.”

“Who lives there now?” Harry asked, his tone nervous.

Gothwen exploded with laughter.

“Many people,” Gothwen answered, amused. “Guards, prisoners, seers, messengers… me. You have no reason to fear the Tower, Harry.”

“ _That's_ your home?” Harry demanded. “That's where I'll be staying?”

“Yes!” Gothwen sung, seemingly unaware of Harry's worry. “Isn't it beautiful? It makes me wonder why I left! Well, it is important to learn about the outside world, but Mordor is truly amazing.”

Harry looked at the tower again. Now, seeing it as Gothwen's home, it seemed less cruel and dark and more strong and safe. Harry was certain that without the permissive of the denizens of Mordor, his enemies would have a hard time getting to him.

Gorion stopped beating her wing as they neared the Dark Tower and they began to glide, angling down towards Barad-dûr. The wind howled louder as they picked up speed.

The fortress loomed in front of them. Harry spotted a landing circle, surrounded by softly glowing lights. The lights were not flickering as fire would, and Harry guessed that they were LED.

“Are those LED lights?” Harry called over the sound of the wind.

“Yes!” Gothwen responded with a similar volume. “The main living quarters are fully modernized. We use a semi magical nuclear fusion reactor – hydrogen to helium – for our energy. Water is heated magically but making lights is more efficient with electricity. Plus, the cameras need it and we have both electric and magical motion sensors.”

Even though he hadn't seen the inside of the tower, Harry was impressed. Magic and technology existing and being used side by side in perfect harmony? It was everything the wizarding world was not, even if it was in such a scary looking tower. But then again, didn't everyone say not to judge a book by its cover?

Gorion landed gracefully on the ground, and lowered herself to allow Gothwen and Harry to dismount.

After Gothwen helped Harry down, she took his trunk and began leading Harry to one of the tower's entrances. A small group of what looked like large house elves hurries out the door.

“Put my things in my chambers,” Gothwen ordered them.

“Yes ma'am,” the creatures growled and then started tending to Gorion. The wyvern sighed and spread out, seemingly happy.

Gothwen lead Harry into a chamber. There were hallways going in all directions but in the center there was a slab of silvery-gold and black marble. Gothwen lead Harry to the stone and they both stood on it. Before Harry could ask what they were doing, Gothwen spoke.

“Dark Tower, Chambers of Gothwen,” Gothwen enunciated. With a flash of light, they were standing in a very different room.

On one side, dark red drapes framed a panoramic view of Mount Doom. Harry realized that they must be very high up in the tower. The walls were a red so dark that, at first glance, they seemed black. The floor was made of black marble with a reddish hint and the ceiling was silver and made of arches high above their heads. A few doors lined the walls but a sliver door stood in the wall opposite the windows. There were few real designs, but a reoccurring motif was that of a wyvern.

“Why wyverns?” Harry asked.

“I had a hand in their creation,” Gothwen answered proudly. “I was actually in charge of the project. I'm the… highest ranking officer, I believe the term is, in the entire Department of Experimental Breeding and Weaponized Lifeforms otherwise known as DEB. I'm having troubles with the language, this century, because everything is so similar and yet so different.”

“This century?” Harry questioned. “How old are you?”

“Do you not know better than to ask a lady her age?” Gothwen laughed. “I'll tell you this much – I am older than the sun and moon.”

“But the sen existed before the earth,” Harry argued, “and the moon existed before life.”

“That is true,” Gothwen agreed. “And yet it is true also that I watched the sun rise for the first time and before it, the moon. Both are true, though they are contradictions.”

Harry frowned at Gothwen, unsure of what she meant. How the sun could be created both before **and** after the earth, he didn't know.

“There are infinite futures, one present and two pasts,” Gothwen explained. “Now do you want to read the parsel books? I have one on parselmagic, another on snake philosophy, a book on different species that speak parseltounge but are not technically snakes like my wyverns and the Dragon Lords. Then, there are two that I was going use as bribes to make a parselmouth friend of mine visit.”

“You have a parselmouth friend?” Harry asked nervously, his experiences with the only other parselmouth he knew, Voldemort, flashing through his mind.

“Yes,” Gothwen answered. “She's one of my truest friends. Would you like to meet her?”

“I'm not sure,” Harry admitted uneasily. Since Gothwen had called the other parseltongue 'she', it probably wasn't Voldemort, but one could never be too careful. “I only know one other parselmouth, but he's tried to kill me three times and one of those times was when I was on and a half years old and he murdered both my parents. He's also the enemy I was hiding from at the Dursley's.”

“Ouch,” Gothwen murmured. “No wonder you think of it as a dark skill. Alright, if my friend tries to kill you, I promise I'll kick her out. But she'll be ecstatic to meet you. There are very few parselmouths – just seven in all of Mordor and they're all related. I think I'll tell her to bring her daughter along. She has one daughter that can speak parseltongue and a son who can't.”

“I will meet them,” Harry decided. If the parselmouth had two kids, it made it just that more unlikely that she was Lord Voldemort.

“Great,” Gothwen muttered thoughtfully. “Now, I am sure you are tired. I have a guest bedroom; you can sleep there.”

After Harry had eaten a quick dinner and gone to sleep, Gothwen left and locked the silver door behind her. Then she trotted down the hall, excuses running through her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case someone doesn't know exactly what LED lights are, they are very energy efficient lights. Why does Mordor use LEDs? Because they're useful and my home uses mostly LEDs.


	7. A Discussion Between An Elf And A Dark Lord

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken so long. I've been busy with school and life. I hope to update more often soon, as most of my responsibilities have been taken care of.

The Throne Room

Barad-dûr

Mordor

 

The room was massive. Unlike the living quarters, there was no marble. Also, it was not made in such a way that it didn't need pillars. The throne room was not made to make people in awe of Mordor or comfortable in the Tower. It was made to strike fear in the hearts of both servants and enemies of Mordor. It was the only place, besides the Dungeons, that was based off memories of Angband.

Two lines of massive iron pillars held up the ceiling, splitting the hall into three long sections. In the two side halls, hellish fire burned, glowing but shedding little light and monstrous armored sentries stood in the shadows. The middle hall was larger and it's ceiling higher. Like the other two halls, the main hall was made of a black-silver metal. Torches lined the center hall, brightly lighting the way though they burned black. At the end of the hall there was a thinner pathway where much of the center hall and all of the side halls fell away steeply into a chasm. The path continued into the chasm as it became a rock bridge, paved with the same black-silver metal. The bridge continued to the top of a pillar that rose out of the darkness below. On that pillar was the throne, raised on whole flights of steps.

Gothwen walked up to the stairs and knelt at the bottom.

“ **My Lord?** ” Gothwen asked in the oldest form of the Black Tongue. “ **I have returned…** ”

“ **I can see that,** ” came the dry and unamused response. Suddenly, Sauron was standing to Gothwen's right, in his Annatar form. On his left hand, Gothwen could see the gold glint of the One Ring. “ **I ordered you to watch over a child. I understand that it might be… below your level, but I had my reasons, as I always do, and I expect my orders to be obeyed. What say you**?”

“ **My Lord, the boy is here in Mordor, now,** ” Gothwen began respectfully. “ **I brought him to my chambers, fed him and now he lies sleeping in one of the guest bedrooms** -”

“ **Frightened**?” Sauron demanded. He began to slowly circle Gothwen with all the grace of a hunting tiger. “ **My** **sources** **all say that he lives like a prince, though it was much harder to find out where. Tell me, have all my sources lied to me or have you dragged the boy away from his privileged life and forever pitted him against me?** ”

“ **Your sources lied, my Lord,** ” Gothwen stated firmly. “ **They lied or were lied to. The boy lives nothing like a prince – unless you mean like a young elven prince in an** **O** **rc camp! I did not drag the boy anywhere, either: I have him food when he had eaten the equivalent of a small meal over the previous two days, offered protections from someone called Voldemort and a place to stay without his Aunt Horsey. He came willingly. Happily, even.** ”

Gothwen dared to glance up. Sauron was gazing at her thoughtfully.

“ **He is grateful to me, my Lord,** ” Gothwen insisted. “ **I will make sure he is grateful to all of Mordor and loves the Tower like a second home.** ”

“ **Do that,** ” Sauron ordered. “ **This** _ **is**_ **an interesting development. Everyone believes that the boy is safe and spoiled, but he has known only darkness for so much of his life, if what you say is not exaggerated, dear Gothwen.** ”

“ **My Lord, it is not exaggerated!** ” Gothwen exclaimed. “ **I do not know of all, but what he has said unthinkingly and the scars that litter his back paint a cruel picture.** ”

“ **Oh, yes. It will be useful, the fact that the so-called light has abandoned their Savior to the tender mercies of the weak and ignorant.** ” Sauron chuckled. “ **We will see how long the Wizards and Witches last when their Savior is so favored by their conquerors.** ” Then Sauron smiled cruelly and his disguise of Annatar fell away and he became a spirit of fire, ice and shadow. When he spoke, his voice was powerful with the weight of millennium uncounted behind his words. “ **Their Savior, they call him,** ” Sauron laughed. “ **And yet how cruel they have been to him. How blind they are, as they bury their heads in the sand to escape his words. Hah! Without our help, little Harry will be sent to his enemy like a lamb to a sacrificial alter. Make certain he understands, Gothwen, my traitorous elf, that you will provide** **knowledge** **and therefore power. See that he understands that we will not abandon and scorn him or his word.** ”

“ **Yes, my Lord,** ” Gothwen nodded. “ **I have already begun. He will be ready to go back to his world by the time his school starts.** ”

“ **My Lord!** ” someone interrupted from one of the side-halls. An Orc, waving an iphone, ran across the bridge.

“ **What is it?** ” Sauron snapped.

“ **Message from the Black Gate!** ” the Orc cried. “ **The Order of the** **Phoenix** **found Exit MX9. A wizard werewolf, Remus Lupin, is in custody and Exit MX9 is closed!** ”

“ **That's the Gate I came through!** ” Gothwen exclaimed.

“ **Good thing I strengthened the wards,** ” Sauron growled. “ **They must have been tracking their Chosen One. Have them bring the wizard to Guest Cell 14. Order them to be nice.** ”

“ **Yes sir!** ” The Orc barked and began tapping on the iphone screen, waking slowly away.

“ **The werewolf knows the boy well,** ” Sauron murmured slowly. “ **I wonder how he would react to hearing that his cub was abused. You will be the first to speak to him. Tell him I am busy, that I will be there soon. Then ask what he wants. If it is not about the boy, end the conversation. If it is about the boy, mention how he was supposed to be safe where he was, but you think he will be safer here, where he will not starve. When he asks, tell him how you found him and what he said to make you believe he has been abused and how easily he agreed to go with a complete stranger.** ”

“ **Yes, my Lord,** ” Gothwen agreed. She stood, bowed deeply, and left.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love feedback, so please comment!


	8. The Disappearance of Remus

The Black Cliff

Random Mountain

England

 

Hedwig had disappeared in the same place that Harry had disappeared after the last jump. Now, the Order of Phoenix stood in that spot, staring at an unusual, large, smooth cliff made out of perfectly black stone. On the surface, there were runes carved into the stone in the shape of a huge door; a huge gate.

The Order stared at the gate.

Taking a deep breath, Remus walked forward steadily until he stood right in front of the gate.

Remus poked the gate.

To the horror of the Order members, the entire gate made a motion disturbingly similar to when one hits Jello with a spoon.

Remus sucked in a deep breath and then plunged into the gate. There were shrieks from the other members. Remus had completely disappeared behind the gate.

Then silence.

The Order continued staring at the Gate as it's disturbing Jello motions slowed to a stop.

Remus's upper body burst through the gate, one wrist twisted behind his back, still behind the Gate. He tried to pull himself out of the Gate, but something oth the other side was dragging him backwards. Remus's face was grim. The Order was frozen and did not do anything more than take a few steps towards Remus and raise their wands.

“They're going to close the Gate!” Remus shouted urgently. “They've seen Harry! He was taken to the Tower!” Remus was almost completely behind the gate. “Help!” Remus was jerked past the Gate.

Suddenly the Gate's motions snapped to a stop. The runes sunk into the stone, except for a single circle above their heads, about the size of a large gird.

“This isn't good,” Dumbledore murmured.

Whispers broke out amongst the Order members. The ones closer to the gate, many of whom had moved forward to help Remus, stepped backwards away from the Gate…

The newest form of The Black Gate of Mordor.

 


	9. An Orcish Werewolf

The Black Gate

Western Mountains of Shadow

Mordor

 

 

Remus had been captured by strange humanoids. From afar, they may have passed as human, but once one got closer, it was obvious that they were not human at all. Their eyes were like cat or snake eyes, and the vibrant colors of poison or a hunter in the night. Their nails were more like claws and some had small protrusions of bone on their skulls, poking out of their thin hair like small horns. They were always sniffing and they seemed have a strange, almost alien, strength and an inhuman bone structure that caused them to always seem like they were crouching. The strange non-humans who had captured Remus were not exactly gentle. As they dragged him through the Gate, they had twisted Remus's arm and peeled his fingers off his wand. Then they had thrown him in a relatively small shack with a dirt floor, concrete walls and ceiling, and a slightly rusted iron door with bars in a window. There was absolutely no furniture in the shack and it was cold. Remus shivered as he paced like a caged wolf. At the same time, they hadn't been as cruel as they could have been. After Remus had stopped struggling, they hadn't hit him or twisted his limbs. As they were marching him to the shack, when Remus had tripped, the humanoids had caught him each time, pausing a bit to allow him to regain his footing. And, so far, they hadn't left him in the shack long, so Remus hoped it might be temporary.

Suddenly, the door opened. One of the non-humans stood in the doorway, his smile showing his sharp teeth. Remus could see other soldiers outside, beyond the smiling one.

“Our apologies for the sub-par accommodations,” the humanoid apologized. “Our normal holding cells are full of elven rebels. This was the only space available. You are to be taken to Barad-dûr, our… capitol. Any questions?”

“Would it be rude to ask you what are?” Remus asked nervously.

“We are Orcs,” came the answer.

“How long will I be here?” Remus asked, feeling slightly worried. If the full moon came along, he might be in trouble.

The Orc smiled and laughed slightly, a barking laugh that raised the hairs on Remus's neck, a laugh that suggested the Orc knew exactly what Remus was thinking.

“I have no idea,” the Orc admitted. “However, should it be longer than before the full moon, you needn't worry. Your wolf form will be well taken care of.”

“How… how did you know?” Remus stammered. There went his plan of not exposing himself to any discrimination that might be present against werewolves here.

“Orcs have a good sense of smell,” the Orc explained. “With the boost from my werewolf senses, I was able to smell your wolfishness.”

“You're a werewolf as well?” Remus demanded.

“Of course,” the Orc answered. “Have you not seen another werewolf in a while? What about your pack?”

“I don't have a pack,” Remus sighed. “I never have. It's a long story, but I disagree with my Sire and he sort of left me to die after he Turned me…”

“That's horrible,” the Orc sighed. “Here, that is illegal. There are few greater crimes than leaving one's young to die. Terrible. Now, come. Orders from Barad-dûr are bad luck to ignore or put off for long.”

The Orc werewolf lead the way and Remus trotted after him, scenting the air to see if he could smell other werewolves. Other Orcs surrounded the two werewolves, following the Orcish werewolf's lead and Remus felt a stirring of some emotion, something positive, deep within him at the realization that his fellow werewolf was more important than the other Orcs.

They marched through a village unlike anything Remus had ever seen. Although it had relatively normal buildings and electric lights, there was exactly one building that looked like a store, what looked like an entire, unusually nice, orphanage, and barracks. There were a ridiculous number of barracks with Orcs leaning outside their walls or waking in and out and around town in full armor.

“This is a military town,” the werewolf Orc explained, catching Remus's confused gaze. “Most of the people here are part of Mordor's army.”

“What about those kids?” Remus asked, gesturing in the direction of the orphanage-looking building.

“Children of soldiers,” the Orc explained. “Their parents might go on a patrol, die, or be too busy to take care of them but the children will not suffer any negative consequences.”

“Oh,” Remus muttered, glancing back at the children. “Don't they want to live with their parents?”

“One cannot miss what one does not know,” the Orc noted. “All children want more attention from their parents but running around with pack-mates makes for good memories. Many of my best friends now were my pack-mates before I became a werewolf and changed packs to one that I could run with during the full moon.”

The Orcs turned and marched into a large open building. The entire wall was made out of large doors, most of them propped open. Unlike most of the buildings in the town, it was a single story. Along the back wall were large slabs of a strange black marble.

Remus was marched to the black marble slabs and the two werewolves stood on one of the stones.

“Barad-dûr, Guest Entrance, Block 7,” the Orcish werewolf enunciated.

There was a flash of light, and then they were no longer in a small town near the Black Gate.

 


	10. Dreams of an Ancient Fortress

Dream-scape of The Lowest Meeting Room of Angband

Beyond the Universe

The Timeless Void

 

Lord Voldemort woke suddenly, dragged cruelly out of a sweet dream where he had been mocking the Matron of his former Orphanage, throwing a few Crucios as she struggled to comprehend the true horror of Lord Voldemort.

But Lord Voldemort was not in his warm bed with silken sheets. He was in a strange, chaotic chamber, that was like a gathering place for an army unchained by any form. The walls and ceiling defied nature with alien angles and rock as black as the Void in which Lord Voldemort had spent much of his time in wraith-form. The floor was made of violently boiling lava, burning at such extreme heat that it had begun to melt the walls. The air, on the other hand, seemed beyond frozen and Lord Voldemort perceived that it was somehow so cold that Earth's air would be liquid in that chamber. The lava gave off no light and no light came from any other source. Lord Voldemort realized that he was not seeing so much as perceiving as he had in his wraith-form. As he understood that, Lord Voldemort realized he was not standing on anything, but floating, formless, above the burning lava.

“So the rumors are true,” a bone-chilling voice purred. “Only one who has spent time as a wraith – even so little as a mere decade – could exist in this place for any length of time. Other mortals would see only the Void.”

Another being condensed from shadows, ice and fire. Lord Voldemort perceived that it was far more powerful than he was.

“You know of me but I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage,” Lord Voldemort politely fished for information.

“Ah, but we have met already!” The being informed Lord Voldemort. It's voice became cruelly amused. “Am I so forgettable that you cannot remember me?”

“I have never been to such a place as this,” Lord Voldemort admitted. “I am afraid that without a face or name, I would be hard-pressed to recognize even my most loyal follower or most hated enemy.”

“I am Sauron, Lord of Werewolves, Lieutenant of Lord Melkor, The Lord of Darkness,” the being allowed Lord Voldemort to know. “Though you would remember me best as Annatar.”

“I wondered how you were able to slip past the wards,” Lord Voldemort exclaimed. “Now I see that they would have been like spiderwebs to the wind! However, may I know why you are called the Lord of Werewolves?”

“You flatter me,” Sauron laughed. “As for my title, of course I am their Lord. Who else would be their Lord when I am their Maker.”

“So then, Lord Melkor...” Lord Voldemort trailed off uneasily. As a master of lies, he felt his conclusion was unburdened by deceit.

“Is the Lord and Maker of Darkness,” Sauron finished Lord Voldemort's sentence. “That is correct.”

“Then you have not contacted me because I am the Dark Lord,” Lord Voldemort murmured. “In fact, I am not the Dark Lord at all in your eyes.”

“Not _the_ Dark Lord,” Sauron agreed. “But I do see you as a Dark Lord, for you are the Lord of your corner of Darkness, and I am lord of mine. It is often assumed that the title Dark Lord  means the Lord of all Darkness, but in truth, only Lord Melkor rules all the darkness, which he made. So, I contact you as one Dark Lord to another, to tell you what he who mad us, who gave us power, desires.”

“You want something,” Lord Voldemort realized, growling in anger.

“Do not take the fact that we bear the same title to mean that we are equals,” Sauron hissed, his form growing in size and power. “Know that what I show you is no more than a sliver of my mind and power. I will be obeyed, whether or not I speak for the Master of Darkness. You will do as I say, if only to gain power.”

As Sauron had continued speaking, he had  allowed his form th grow until it surrounded Lord Voldemort so that he had to flinch and shy away from the greater power.

“What do you wish me to do?” Lord Voldemort asked, seeing the futility of arguing and his mind swayed by his Ring.

“There is a Wizard, an old Dark Lord who still lives,” Sauron answered calmly, drawing his power away from the Dark wizard. “Though he has been vanquished for many decades, still his followers make speeches in his name and recruit and bear his symbol. You would do well to save him from his prison and help him regain power in the shadows. I will lend to you warriors to help you break him free of his prison.”

“Who is he?” Lord Voldemort asked. “And how will I gain power when he may take it away?”

“In Britten, his follower's children turned to you,” Sauron told him. “They could do nothing else. After all, his vanquisher, your esteemed Professor, does live there...”

“Grindelwald!” Lord Voldemort exclaimed. “Once he gains enough power, I'll be forced to become his Lieutenant!”

“Which would you rather be?” Sauron demanded. “Lord of a small portion of an island or the Lord Lieutenant of the entire Wizarding World? Either way, you will have power, but the latter way will allow you to have so much more power and the Darkness as a whole will be empowered. As a Dark Lord, you have always served the Darkness, and this is what the Darkness requires.”

“Very well,” Lord Voldemort sighed. “I'll get back to you on the date and time of the jail break in a week's time.”

“Excellent,” Sauron purred, and Lord Voldemort was thrown suddenly back into his body.

With a sigh, he fell back to sleep, his mind already plotting the steps he would have to take. For even if he was following orders, the idea had merit, no matter how much he hated being told what to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, in case anyone is wondering, this scene is both a dream and reality. It's Sauron manipulating Voldemort's dreams to communicate with him.
> 
> Secondly, sorry for the wait. I though my responsibilities were almost over but I now have more than ever. I should be able to write more by the end of next month for sure and likely before then. Then again, the remodel my family is doing should have ended by 2018 but it's taken twice the length of time we planned for.
> 
> Lastly, please comment! I love feedback.


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